Angel Bait: How To Heal a Broken Wing

A Hook for The Fallen

If faith feels beyond you, grant me this one sentiment: Everything happens for a reason.

I'm Sky Fisher, hook loaded with Angel Bait. I believe with an insufferable certainty that the people I pull into my digital sphere are mostly fallen angels. Angels fall for a reason.

If you find and feel divinity in you. If you find and feel strangeness; a light, a power that frightens you, a purpose you can't explain, assume you are an angel. If you’re not convinced, I’ve still got you on my hook somehow. Stick around. I might know you better than you do.

Today, I'm teaching you how to heal a broken wing:

When angels fall, from stars or other cosmic planes etc., it's inevitable to sustain injuries. Some angels fall at birth straight out of the heavens, like burning meteors, hitting earth so hard they never recover without help. Others are dropped out of windows or have their wings clipped when they're young. Broken wings are the most common. They manifest in a thousand silent torments. The delicate, splintered bones rob us of sleep. They ache, leaving a black hole in our chest where the sun once lived. Without them, gravity weights on us heavier. Simple tasks become impossible odysseys.

Prolonged damage to our wings forces us into isolation, longing, confusion, helplessness. We become divine cripples. Some turn cruel. Some make deals with devils. Some tear the wings from those still capable of flight.

But an angel's wings never lose the ability to heal, just as the mind never loses its ability to change. Just as a heart never loses the ability to love. Healing and redemption are inextricably connected. If you seek one, you must submit to the other.

An army of fallen angels, staggering and slumped, chains rusting into ancient wounds across their backs and ankles. Crumpled wings, unset bones poking through the thin skin. Scabs leak a silver blood that burns the earth. Some take drugs to mitigate or numb the pain. Some insist Heaven isn't real and that they were never there. Some search desperately for meaning in lovers or jobs but never find their own divinity. Some of them sacrifice themselves to raise children and angels alike, but without healed wings, they can neither protect nor teach. And so more angels fall. More children are damned.

None of them fly. None of them save humanity from the devil and demons reaping havoc across this sacred place. None of them raise torches of holy fire or sing sings of eternal liberation. None of them see the brackish blood of evil on the hem of their robes.

Why should you bother healing a broken wing? Maybe you're comfortable on the ground. You don't mind walking. Maybe you don't believe that it's possible to heal. After all, it would mean you've been needlessly wounded when you could have endured the same pain while healing. Maybe you bought yourself a nice car and aren't bothered about the wings anymore. Maybe you're too paralyzed by the pain to move at all. Maybe you don't think you're deserving off flight. You're the one who fell, after all.

To be wounded is a mark of your divinity. It is not a punishment, it is a golden mark on your brow. Honor that pain. Accept the journey. Remember the fall.

You were not cast out. You were called down. Because we needed you. There are no self help books that will free you from that duty to others. No workshops or manifestation techniques that will resolve your pain, which is one part internal suffering and one part divine disconnect from both your source and your purpose.

A broken wing is not a mark of shame to carry—it is your beginning.

First, acknowledge the break. The moral or mortal injury that stole you from the skies.

Then, set it.

Not with old lies of toughness and silence. Not with a numbing cream that will wear off and cost you. Not with falsities. Not with niceties. Set it with truth. Admit what hurts. Sit with the pain. Scream it into the dark. Scrawl it into a journal. Confess it in prayer. Name the broken bone. Reset it.

Rest.

Wings need stillness to regrow. Stillness of body and mind that is intentional. Remember: Rest is not surrender. It is the first prayer of flight.